


We Fall Together

by trahelle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys Kissing, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 07:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trahelle/pseuds/trahelle
Summary: “Where have you been?” Potter asked, his tone scathing as he advanced on Draco.Faced with that particular set of furious green eyes, Draco found he had no words. He should have prepared for this, Potter wasn't one to leave things unsaid. Potter didn't walk away.





	We Fall Together

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Alek-r's artwork: https://alek-r.tumblr.com/post/179872251424/after-the-holidays-spent-apart-draco-and-harry

It had been nearly three weeks since Draco had seen or talked to Potter, after a full summer of visiting Little Whinging any day he could. 

Looking back, Draco wasn't entirely sure what possessed him to seek out Potter in the first place -- it could have been to apologize as easily as to seek retaliation for what had passed at the ministry and where his father had ended up because of it -- but even without knowing what he intended to do when he got there, Draco had figured out where Potter lived and sought him out the next day.

That first meeting, while Potter had shoved him up against a wall, wand pressed against the pulse-point in his neck, Draco had just stared back at him dumbfounded. The golden boy, the savior of the wizarding world, was gaunt, eyes haunted. The absence of robes permitted Draco to notice clothes so oversized he looked like he'd drown in them, yet so poor quality, he could have been homeless. 

“Potter?” He uttered the name like a question. 

Surprise then an unknown expression had crossed Potter's features, but after a few heartbeats he’d lowered his wand slightly. That action heralding a tense, but burgeoning truce between them that had grown into something more...

But it was something that they'd never had the chance to define, since Draco had been too much a coward to face Potter with the brand he now sported on his arm. A mark which he'd been obliged to take in exchange for he and his mother's freedom to go on living, but which had come at the worst time imaginable. 

The last time he'd seen Potter they'd been swaying in tandem on the swings in the rusty playground near his relatives house, when Potter’s hand had bridged the gap between them and grasped his own. In retrospect, it had been an inevitability -- they'd been falling together in different ways since they meet before first year. But Draco had been terrified of everything holding Potter's hand represented, and the weight of it had driven him to make excuses and leave without an explanation. 

It had only taken a few hours till he’d figured out that Potter had just been brave enough to do what they had both considered a hundred times that summer. He'd vowed to straighten it out with Potter the next day, but hadn't gotten the chance since he'd been inducted into the ranks of the Dark Lord that night.

Now he was on the train back to Hogwarts with an unwanted tattoo that made him sick, a new reason for self loathing, and the knowledge that Potter could never forgive him for the past three weeks and who he'd become in the interim.

Draco strolled purposefully up the corridor towards the prefects’ car, head down and determined to not attract attention. As he passed by compartments, he didn't notice their occupants, just maintained his pace, weaving between passing students. When a hand shot out of one, clutching his arm and pulling him in, he hadn't had enough time to react before he was thrown back against the leather bench, while his captor locked and occluded the cabin’s windows. 

He palmed his wand, readying for an attack, when his captor turned to face him. It was Potter, a very angry Potter. 

“Where have you been?” Potter asked, his tone scathing as he advanced on Draco. 

Faced with that particular set of furious green eyes, Draco found he had no words. He should have prepared for this, Potter wasn't one to leave things unsaid. Potter didn't walk away. 

“Tell me,” Potter said, his voice quieter, but somehow more desperate. Draco couldn't manage anything more than shaking his head, wishing the world would open up and swallow him. 

Potter stopped in front of him, still standing, but he looked defeated and small. “I shouldn't have held your hand. I'm sorry, okay? But please, can't we at least talk about it?”

“I liked you holding my hand,” he said, his voice breaking. He hated seeing Potter like this. Potter who was brightness and life itself in his fits of anger and the ever present intensity to everything he did. 

“If you did, then why didn't you come back?” he asked, his eyes possessed that hollow look again. “I waited at the playground every day.” 

“Potter, we can't,” Draco's voice cracked, “you don't understand.”

“How about you enlighten me, then.” Potter said, crossing his arms and holding them so close to his chest he was hunched over slightly.

Draco checked the windows and found them all obscured. It was a gamble, but he didn't have the words to explain it; he rolled up his left sleeve, looking down at the ugly mark that marred his flesh, too afraid to meet Potter's eyes for fear of the disappointment he'd find there. 

But then Potter was covering Draco's blackened skin with his bronzed hand. “Did you want it?” he asked quietly, kneeling before Draco. 

“No.”

“Then you should have come back.”

“I'm sorry I didn't,” he said, though it made his heart hurt, because it sounded like the metaphorical door was closed. Maybe Potter didn't blame him, but it was too much to ask for his forgiveness as well. Draco would give anything to go back to what they were before, to that night when Potter held his hand and he should have held back. But he hadn't and now it was too late.

Potter stood up and turned away from him. Draco watched his back, hoping it would betray some of what Potter was thinking, but he found no answers there. He stood up too, because he'd left things unsaid once and he didn't want to make that mistake again. He reached out, touching Potter's shoulder lightly. “Potter, please…” 

Potter turned, looking up at Draco expectantly. 

“I figured out within hours that I'd made a mistake,” Draco swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry, “I was a complete coward and then I was given the mark that night… I didn't think the circumstances would matter and I wasn't strong enough to face you hating me again…”

He wanted to look away, but Potter stood there searching his face for what felt like an eternity. Finally he seemed to have found the answer to whatever question he was asking, because he was jumping into Draco's arms, wrapping his legs tightly around his waist when Draco caught him. Draco didn't have time to be shocked before Potter was asking, “Can I kiss you?” The words uttered from so close that Draco felt the breath ghost across his lips. 

An odd mixture of relief and joy rushed through him. Despite knowing he didn't deserve this, he wanted it more than anything. “I don't know, can you, Potter?” he asked, unable to keep a straight face.

Potter grinned. “Call me Harry,” he whispered against Draco's lips, before pressing his own to them in a kiss that tasted like redemption.


End file.
